Forever is A Longtime
by XxTwistedIvyxX
Summary: There is a small town in Maine: Clover Hill. Population, 3,250. Nothing ever happens here, the crime rate is amazingly low. But soon, two different breeds of Immortal will cross paths and set in effect a chain of events that will change lives..forever. Jasper/OC. Post-BD
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N:_**  
**_ PLEASE WATCH THE TRAILER! I WORKED REALLY HARD ON IT, AND IT'S MY FIRST. youtube . com watch?v = n7SLWxuAsqc (JUST REMOVE THE SPACES.)Okay, here I go again! Now this is a story I've had on my mind for awhile. I finally decided to bite the bullet and put the pen to paper..so to speak. Somethings you should know: This a puesdo-crossover. May (My OC) is Immortal. The Highlander 'brand' . I have always loved the TV Show; and I really thought it would be interesting. You really do not have to know anything about 'Highlander' to understand this story. But I do suggest it, as it is a fabulous show! This isn't in the Crossover section for purely selfish purposes, as I really hope people like it and read it, and it wouldn't get nearly as much exposure._**

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Forever is a Longtime

Chapter One: Live to Fight Another Day.

_She is immortal. Born in the Low lands of Ireland 320 years ago. She is not alone. There are others like her, some good, some evil. For centuries she has battled, with holy ground her only refuge. She cannot die, unless you take her head, and with it her power. In the end there can be only one._

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It was a muggy morning in early April. The moist dew hung, suspended in the air. In the wee hours of the morning, most humans are asleep. Most. But in the most secluded section of the state park, under the moss cover cobblestone bridge the scene that was unfolding would baffle anyone. Three figures seemed to be in heated debate. One small distinctly female one stood off to the side. Her small frame leaning against the aged stone, petite arms crossed over her chest. The long black trench coat was loose fitting and seemed to swallow the young woman. The other two men circled each other in a very predatory fashion. Their movements precise and measured, and as two drew swords from the folds of their trench coats all signs of life were void-except for the strange three.  
The two were poised, and the smaller of the two struck, the clashing of metal on metal was jarring. The woman watched the two have at each other; her steely blue gaze hard, yet uneasy. She watches with a victor clearly in mind. She has a dog in this fight. On edge- her posture screams, and does not release until the smaller of the two men falls to his knees. Sword clattering to the cracked aged pavement beneath him, chest heaving, eyes downcast. The woman holds her breath, as he tilts his head ever so slightly to the side. Baring his neck. With a strong swoop the sharp steel meets tender flesh and the head is severed. A small thud and the handsome features roll about a foot away.

_"_So I'm a little weak on pop culture. Well, who the hell is Lady Gaga in the grand scheme of things, anyway? I mean I, I know how tall King George was, Bonaparte's favorite food, I know Helen of Troy didn't have that great a face and it only launched a hundred ships not a thousand, and..._ "_A petite fair-skinned woman rambled at her much taller tanned dark hair companion.

"Blah blah blah." He grumbled, grouchily. May Gallagher a fair skinned petite woman who didn't look a day over the age of sixteen and her taller, much larger dark haired companion bicker quietly as they strolled down Main Street, of the small town in northeastern Maine. The average person completely unaware of the pair. Though the ruggedly handsome man seemed much too old to be 'with' his smaller female companion. But if you spoke of this concern you might be met with a lighthearted chuckle from May and a throaty laugh from the man. May Gallagher has a secret, all of Clover Hill knows it, and they just can't place it.

"Are they staring at you or me?" He asks gruffly, as his follows his companion into the small café. Her mousy brown, mid-back length hair swishing as she walked to the back of the shop, finding a small secluded table.

"It's me." She groaned. May is by all accounts, was beautiful, unattached and 'totally loaded', but the pretty young woman keeps to herself. Since the day she moved to Clover Hill rumors flew, she was reportedly, everything from an heiress to a government spy to even, a high priced call girl. She smiles warmly over her shoulder as her companion pulls out her chair for her.

"Excuse me," he muttered his slight Scottish accent barely noticeable anymore. May studied her chipped French manicure and before she knew it he returned, two large cups of steaming coffee in hand.

"Thanks, Mac. That was incredibly stupid...for the record." She said, watching as the hulk of a man sat at the table, trying to fold his long legs under the small café table.

"You really did expect me to lose." His tone betraying the hurt he felt at such an insinuation. Quirking a light brown eyebrow, May took a tentative sip.

"Yeah, and you didn't?" May had known her companion for a long time, a very long time. He was he teacher, her friend. But no matter the highest mountains of respect for him she felt. He had a foolish streak. He also had this pesky sense of honor, dignity and chivalry. Duncan Macleod was a goddamn boy scout. Exactly two hundred years ago, he'd met a woman. She was beautiful, smart, rebellious, and very very married. Unfortunately, her husband was also very immortal, and had been seeking satisfaction for years.

"It wasn't about that…May, after all these years you still don't understand." He shook his head, his long curly black hair tied back at the nape of his neck.

"What? That you're an idiot with no sense of self-preservation. Oh yeah, trust me. I got that." She rolled her eyes, as she turned her attention out the large front window.

"I had to take responsibility for what I'd done. Nothing you could do was ever going to solve it for me. I had to face him and fight the best fight of my life knowing he'd do the same. It's just the Fates that decide the winner." He said confidently, as her rose his coffee to his lips.

"Trial by combat..." She never turned her attention from the window, watching as the mortals went about their daily business. "How...Noble." Duncan had tried for years to instill his inane sense of 'honor' in May, though it never quite took. Her sense of self-preservation got in the way much too often.

"Clever girl." He chuckled. Folding his hands in front of him as he leaned forward on the small table. "So, how is small town life?"

"Boring…wonderfully boring." She flashed a large smile. "Except for the gossip mongers. Everyone that lives here was born here pretty much, so when they get a newcomer it's like…epic."

"They'll get bored eventually." He smirked.

"I hope."

"I could always lob off a head." He whispered eyeing the other patrons goofily. May smiled shaking her head as she wrapped her fingers around the hot cup.  
"I could do that myself, thank you very much."

"I'm starting to wonder.."He said, his voice taking a serious turn. "When was the last time you practiced?"

"None of your business." She narrowed her icy blue eyes. "Just because I don't like to fight, doesn't mean I can't."  
"I just…would hate to see you get rusty because you avoid it so much."

"I still practice once a week, I even take fencing classes." She grimaced.

"Fencing and actual combat are very different-"

"I know," she sighed rolling her eyes once again. "It's just, the older I get. The longer I live; the more attached to myself I become." Duncan sighed, once again realizing they had come to an impasse. They sat that way for hours, discussing his life in Paris. Her new and exciting small town life. His new lady love. (She repressed an eye roll; he always seemed to have a new one.) Her lack of a love life. "What's the point? We go on and everything around us dies..." she mumbled.  
"Romance, a spark. Anything, it might do you good. What about another imm-"

"Stop." She held up a hand, her finger drumming against the plastic lid of her cup. "Forever is a very longtime to be tied to someone."

"Who said anything about forever, couple hundred years…you move on..." Draining what was left at the bottom of her cup, May stood abruptly, smiling down at Duncan.  
"Well, it's been fun, Macleod." Duncan rolled his eyes, but stood wrapping his student in a bone crushing hug.

"Take care yourself, kid." Grabbing his biceps tightly she store up at the much taller man, blue eyes meeting brown.

"Live Highlander; grow stronger, live to fight another day."

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	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two: Afterlife_

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_May Gallagher's eyes shot open, darkness she was surrounded by it. It's cold too. Tiny fingers crept up to her neck, how on earth? The men at the pub, they'd slit her throat…How? Was this hell? It surely wasn't heaven. Cold and dark, damp. She couldn't see anything. Ripping off the piece of cloth that had been tied around her neck she fingered where her wound …should've been. Nothing, nothing but smooth tender skin. Hard, she was laid on something hard, jerking her foot, hitting against something equally hard. Her hands lifted up only a foot at best before she felt cold wood above her. A coffin! She was in a coffin! They'd buried her alive!_  
_"AHH!" she yelled loudly, slamming her hands against the wood above her. What was that loud ringing in her ears? It was mind numbing and starting to hurt. She beat hard with her fists against the wood. "HELP ME! PLEASE!" she screamed. The air was becoming stale and with each hit, dirt seeping in through the cracks in the boards. Wiggling as best she could, she kicked her booted feet against the lid, the lid of her coffin._

_"You're gonna hav' ta do better than tha'." The soft sound sound of a heavy Scottish brogue called down to her. Kicking her feet harder she screamed in frustration. "Don' yell so much. An' try not to breath you'll use up your air." The voice said again. It sounded vaguely familiar. She took a minute, just a minute to stop and breath. She was in a coffin and there was a man calling to her; she had to be dreaming…this was all too much._

_"AHHH!" she screamed again, she hands and feet beating wildly against the wood, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Please, just get me out-"another loud screech left her lips as the wood above her cracked. CRASH. Dirt cascaded all around her, but cold night air hit her face. A large calloused hand, yanking her up by the front of her dress. _

_"Sha' up." He hissed. Her eyes widening as the two stood in a hole…a very deep hole. She knew him, her eyes adjusting to the night sky. He was dressed in his best, tight fitting tan breeches, and a crisp linen shirt, his ascot slightly undone and dirt and sweat stains colored his shirt. Duncan. Her father's business partner. The man of her dreams._

_"How..how.." He climbed out of the hole, reaching a hand down to her._

_"Well, ya comin'?"_  
_"Duncan!" she stomped a foot in frustration, her best gown sullied and dirty._  
_"Keep yer voice down." He hissed again, grabbing her wrist as her pulled her up onto the cold wet grass. Pitch black night surrounding them, only the silvery light of the moon shining down._  
_"Why?" she croaked, wiping dirty wet tears from her cheeks, smearing more dirt and mud on her face in the process._

_" 'Cause yer not dead an' I'm sneakin ye' outta here.."_

_ May Gallagher sat on an expensive sofa in front of the hearth, her blue eyes darting around the room. Still clad in her dirty gown, her hair was pinned up in an elegant updo. She couldn't help but keep touching her neck, as Duncan paced in front of her. Trying to digest what she had just been told. Immortals. Swords. Death. Cutting off heads. The Game ..The Prize. There can be only one. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish._

_"Well, say somethin'." Duncan muttered dropping to his knees in front of the seated woman gripping her upper arms. "May?"_

_"I'll never see nineteen?" she squeaked, blinking a few times._

_"No, but you may live to see a thousand." He said softly cupping her cheek. Shaking her head free she all but jumped up pacing like a caged lion. Her eyes darting around the room as she hugged herself. But she was not cold._

_"Oh, so yer all running aroun' chopping each other's heads off?" Her eyes fixated on the dancing flames in the fire place. She flinched when Duncan's hands rested on her shoulders, but she didn't turn._

_"Untill there's only one of us left." Shaking her head, fresh tears cascaded down her cheeks as she trembled uncontrollably._

_"No thank you, "she sobbed. "If those are me choices put me back in tha' box." He grabbed her tightly spinning her around his brown eyes boring into her blue, and he gave her a shake; a good hard one._

_"May, this isn't a fairytale…You either learn tha' Game or you die."_

* * *

May Gallagher strolled down Main street, black 'Dolce & Gahanna' purse hanging from her elbow as she clutched a jumbo sized coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She smoked too much, and drank far too much caffeine; but what was the worst that could happen? It would kill her? HA! As she pushed inside the small antique shop she ran, she saw her only two employees's chatting away. Laura and Molly tweeted on and on about anything, both in their early twenties neither had ever been out of their stupidly small town. Sometimes when she left at night she honestly thought her ears were bleeding.  
"Ladies..." May nodded to the two girls behind the counter. Who were talking animatedly. The blonde and brunette both turned at the same time. "Hey May!" they waved.

"Hay is for horses." She clucked, setting her coffee down on the counter she eyes the cluttered shop distastefully. Most patrons never realized that a good ninety percent of the items in this shop were her own. But how could they? "Sell anything?"

"Oh yeah." Molly chirped happily, "that really old tiffany lamp…" May smiled and nodded. _ That really old tiffany lap.._ God she was old.

"Okay. I'll be in my office." She snuffed out her cigarette in a small ashtray next to the cash register. "Call me if you need anything." She headed back towards her office.

"May!" Molly called. "Did you see the smokin' hot new doctor at the hospital yet?" No. she didn't. She wouldn't have; she never went to the hospital, she had no need to.

"No, why?" She turned, walking slowly backward.

"He's gorgeous!" Laura crooned, flipping her long dark hair over her shoulder.

"They all are!" Molly snickered. "The Cullens that is." May's brow furrowed.

"Who are the Cullen's?"

"Oh jeez! You don't keep up with anything!" Molly groaned, smacking her palm against her head. "They just moved here like, maybe two weeks ago….totally hot..the whole family."

"Yeah! Totally!" Laura nodded enthusiastically. "Course the kids are all dating each other which is just weird..."

"Their adopted!" Molly hissed.

"Still weird!"

"The little girl is adorable!"

"And creepy!"

"Girls, Girls! You know what, I don't care…." May said waving her hands dismissively. "I…don't know...just …be productive…dust or something." She said, slamming the door to her office, as she flopped down behind her desk. Tiredly, she messaged her temples. So Clover Hill had new residents, great, maybe they would stop talking about her for a while.

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**_A/N Please take a moment to review!_**


	3. Chapter 3

**_A/N: Okay here is the next installment in our little adventure. I want to thank _****_RachelNicole523_****_ for following! and X'sDarkGrace55 for the review! I'm glad you enjoyed the trailer. I wish I could take credit for the idea, but I have seen a few 'fan fiction trailers' and I always thought it was a great idea. So I decided to give it a shot!_**

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_Chapter Three: Fools on Parade_

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May's fingers flew deftly across the keyboard. A cigarette hanging from the corner of her mouth, and a hand shooting out to grab a stack of reports from the corner of her desk. Tax time…how lovely. Inventory…even better. Such were the days of her life now, and it was better. Better than running around chopping off heads any day of the week. The phone rang; plucking the cigarette between her index and middle finger she flicked the gray ash into an empty coffee mug. The phone rang again, she ignored it. Honestly, what was she paying those girls for?

"May, The Dean of Medicine from Saint Joe's is on the phone." Molly poked her blonde mop through the door, an apologetic smile on those thin pink lips. May stuck the cigarette back between her lips, rolling her eyes.  
"Probably wants to see if he can make me cough up another check." May said to no one in particular. More to her computer monitor than anything, leaning across her desk she gripped the receiver of a small black corded phone. Cigarette still hanging precariously from the corner of her mouth.

"Hello?" Covering the phone with her hand, she nodded. "You can go. Thanks."

"Ms. Gallagher, It's Doctor Flanders; how are you today?" The stuffy voice on the other side said nasally. She bit back a chuckle. Flanders.

"Well, How 'bout yourself?" She took a deep drag off the cigarette; leaning back in her office chair, she exhaled the bluish gray smoke towards the ceiling.

"Well, well. Thank you. I wasn't sure if you were made aware the hospital has a new lead surgeon?"

"Yeeesss. Well, no but I was made aware today." Propping her black high-heel clad feet up on the desk.

"Well, my wife is throwing a 'Welcome' slash Charity event on Saturday, and as one of the hospitals best donors I thought a personal invitation would be fitting…"

"It's a bit-"

"Late notice, I know and I'm terribly sorry for that."

"I'll see what I can do, no promises."

"Of course not, Ms. Gallagher I understand. You have a nic-" she had already stopped listening; leaning over the desk. "You too." She said loudly before carelessly dropping the receiver back in its' cradle.

"So, are you gonna go?!" a high pitched voice called through the door. Pushing with her feet off the desk she chair rolled slowly, and she wretched the door open. The two girls standing on the other side slack jawed, wide eyed and clutching a cordless phone between their ears.

"Ugh, Hi." Molly smiled widely.

"Hi." May flashed a wide equally false smile, placing the cigarette back between her lips. "No, I'm not going." She rolled her eyes, rolling her chair back to her desk closing the door with a swat of her hand.  
But it never snapped, as two girls strode in.

"Well, why the hell not?!" Laura said incredulously.

"If I was invited; I'd go." Molly nodded.

"Do you guys ever knock anymore?" May took a drag of her cigarette. "I'm not going because these things aren't parties, girls. Have you ever been to one?" She said raising an eyebrow. Both girls shook their heads 'no'. "Okay so basically these parties are for the obscenely rich to throw money at the hospital so they can feel better about how 'kind and generous' they are, and congratulate each other on being masters of the universe. The food usually sucks, the booze is over-priced and everyone has sticks up their asses…So, no. I am certainly not going."

"But you could see the hot doc and his family!" Laura said giddily hopping on the balls of her feet.

"Maybe they'll even _talk _to you!" Molly clapped her hands excitedly. "Then of course; you have to come and tell us everything!"

"Like; omigawd guys!" May mocked, swishing her hair flirtiously. Her face turning back to the stoney serious one, she usually wore very quickly. "Guys seriously, I love you girls..but get a hobby!"

"I have a hobby!" Laura huffed.

"Knitting..." May cut her off.

"That's fo-"

"Croquet!"

"May, this is-"

"Bocce ball!"

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May locked the door behind her, followed by the deadbolt, and then punched in a security code on the wall unit next to the door. She stood in the front foyer, next to the bottom of the cherry wood staircase sat a small blinking answering machine. Her heels clicked against the dark hardwood floor.  
-click-_Hey Lassy, it's Mac. A little birdy told me about your invitation to be socially adept...You should-"Delete_. "_ I know your listening to me-"_ Delete. "_ Stop deleting my messages woman!" Delete.  
_ "You have no new messages." The robotic voice said. Pulling her light brown hair down from its' bun, she shook it out as she went about her business. Climbing the stairs of her large luxurious home, she threw her purse on the large Queen Anne style bed. Kicking off her shoes at the foot. She padded, curling her toes against the plush chocolate colored carpet. Padding into her bathroom she turned the hot water on in the large corner soaking tub, dumping a large amount of jasmine scented bubble bath in. RING! She heard the phone. Sighing she looked over her shoulder into the connected bedroom. She narrowed her eyes at the cordless phone on its' charger. RING! It squealed from her bedside table. RING!  
-Click- "_ Hello, This is May Gallagher. I cannot get the phone right now, so leave me a message after the beep." _ BEEP! _ "Hey babe! It's Amanda; I just got off the phone with Macleod."_ Rolling her eyes, May darted across the tile into the bedroom snatching the phone up.

"WHAT?" She growled.

"Jesus, sorry!" The female voice on the other line yelped.

"You talked to Macleod and what? You two decided to run off and play house again for seventy or eighty years?" Amanda was an interesting woman; with an interesting life. Six hundred years old, she lived, loved lost and then loved all over again. She and Macleod also had a very strange relationship...very fitting their persons. It was kind of love/hate...maybe not hate more like; annoyed the hell out of each other.

"Not exactly," she scoffed. "You should go, have some _ normal _ people in your life…you know: friends."

"I have friends." May grumbled grouchily, cradling the phone between her ear and her shoulder she padded back into the bathroom.

"Ones that aren't immortals, and might wind up taking your head one day."

"Are you hinting at something!"

"No! I'm just pointing out that Mac's in Paris with his new woman, I'm in Venice…searching for a love interest...and you are in the backwoods somewhere, hiding in your house."

"I'm not hiding."

"Macleod's words not mine."

"Well, isn't he just charming as of late."

"We're worried…A social life wouldn't kill you." She chuckled at her own joke.

"I don't want to hang around with mortals." May whined, slipping off her black stockings and skirt, her gaze landing on the tub as it filled.

"Why the hell not? They don't have cooties!"

"Because what's the point? They die. They're depressing. That's the way it is for them. So little time for them to SEE anything or DO anything."

"We die too."

"Yes, but I can train. I can fight. My fate lies in my own hands."

"You're too stubborn for your own good..."

"Says you..."

"Says everyone that knows you…really _knows _you. Just go."

"No..."

"Please..."

"No."

"Give up some money, kiss hands, shake some babies." May laughed loudly, tossing her head back.

"I think you mean: shake some _hands_ and _kiss _some babies."

"Whatever..." Amanda groaned. "It'll be good for you."

"Whatever."

"Why don't you believe me?"

"Years of experience." Pursing her lips, May stood turning off the faucets and dipping a toe in the heavenly warm tub. "Fine…fine, fine. I'll go. "

"Great!" Amanda said excitedly.

"But I'm not happy about it."

"Get a great dress…" she ignored May's previous comment.

"Bite me."

"Something fabulous…"

"Tell Macleod I think he's a jerk."

"Black, black is great for these kinds of occasions..."

"I'm hanging up now..."

"Don't forget the shoes, something with a _really _high heel!"

"Hanging up. As we speak."

"You're a brat."-Click- May tossed the phone to vanity, not caring as it slipped into the sink basin. She slipped into the tub, breathing deeply through her nostrils now this was the sort of thing she lived for. Laying her head, back she closed her eyes sinking in deeper, water lapping at her neck.

* * *

_Macleod May and Amanda sat in a new steam engine car. Henry Ford was a genius! Macleod had cut his hair much to May's dismay and slicked it back a straw hat on his head, very fashionable. But he always was, very dapper. Amanda sat next to him in the front seat her perfect raven hair blowing in the breeze. They stole kisses, and held hands. Leaving the immortal in the backseat feeling very much like their child. May smiled lightly though as Amanda leaned over nibbling on Macleod's ear, until she realized he'd missed their turn onto the dirt road._

_"Macleod, you missed the turn..." the pair giggled like teenagers, thoroughly engulfed in each other. "Macleod. I want to join a convent…Macleod, Macleod your pants are on fire."_

* * *

May pulled up to the curb a tad overzealously, her brakes screeching a little as she slammed on them. Climbing out; she handed the young brunette boy her keys. He smiled before quickly muttering 'have a good evening.' Flashing a smile, her heels clicked as she climbed the steps to the large hotel. She had taken Amanda up on her advice; clad in a form fitting scoop-necked cocktail dress that hung just above her knees. It was tight, she didn't care. One perk of never looking a day of sixteen, she'd never have to squeeze into a pair of spanx. The small pearl necklace was short, resting on her collarbones. As soon as she stepped into the lobby she noticed, men, and woman talking animatedly. Wearing their finest tuxes and dress, suddenly she felt underdressed.

"Ms. Gallagher!" a male's overly sweet voice called behind her. Swiveling on her heel, she saw Doctor Flanders rushing towards. Dear old fool that he was. The first thing you would notice about Doctor Flanders was that despite all the money he had-or claimed to have, he wore a very bad toupee. The salt and pepper color actually a shade darker than his natural hair, thus any hope of it blending were null.

"Doctor Flanders." she smiled taking his offered hand lightly as he shook it. Oh, how she missed the days when I man would fawn over a lady and kiss her hand. Alas, they were 'equals' now.

"Please, dear. It's Matthew." He smiled, not hiding his roving eyes as they looked up and down her body. Tucking a hand into his suit jacket pocket, he held a flute of champagne in his other. "I'm so glad you decided you could make it."

"Yes, well. I suppose I could stop being so _reclusive _for just one night." She smiled lightly, her white teeth looking brilliantly white against the dark crimson of her painted lips. The older man tossed his head back laughing loudly, overly so. Her eyes widening as a fake smiled tugged at her lips, her eyes fixed on the crowd of people.

"Oh how rude of me! Come, dear come." He practically ripped his hand for his pocket. Laying it lightly against the small of the petite woman's back, as he steered her through the crowd. "The ballroom is this way. I must say Margret has really out done herself. We truly decided: 'why not go all out.' So I handed her my checkbook and let her have at it." He said with a smug air.

"A woman with a man's checkbook can be a dangerous thing..." She laughed lightly; trying to ignore the hand was on the small of her back. Precariously hovering over her bottom. She could feel the subtle dampness of his hand through the material of her dress.

"Indeed." He laughed, finally withdrawing his hand from her back to hold open a large ornate looking door for her. Ah, she did enjoy a gentleman though. May's blue eyes bulged slightly. He wasn't kidding; there were easily a hundred people in the room, maybe more. The low amber lighting set the '_mood'. _ She supposed. Everything in the ballroom reeked of money from the numerous crystal chandeliers to the black and gold trimmed linen table cloths. "I'm sorry, dear. Where have my manners gotten to tonight? Would you like a glass of champagne?"

"Yes...um...I mean no." she sputtered clutching her handbag a bit closer. "A beer would be great."

"Ah! One beer coming right up, dear." He smiled, before turning on his heel and looking back at his young companion. "Don't you move."

"I won't." May took the moment to suck in a deep breath. Why was she here again? The last 'party' of this size; with this many damned people was when MacLeod and Amanda drug her to a masquerade ball in 1897. Rocking back and forth on her heels, she nervously looped her fingers through the belt loop of her trench coat.

"Excuse me, Miss. I can take this..." She didn't even register the young man had be talking to her until she felt fingers coil around the neck of her coat. Attempting in vain, to help her shrug out of it. Heart racing, palms sweaty. She rudely slapped the boy's hands away.

"Thanks I'm fine." She turned offering the boy a tight lipped smile. Anything to keep him from noticing that the black trench coat was curiously weighted down on one side.

"No really Miss, It's my job." As he moved to take her coat again. Her hand shot out wrenching the boy to her by his black tie. Only to have it snap off in her hand. _A clip on! Really?_

" .fine." she hissed lowly, her eyes narrowed. "If you like your spleen where it is I suggest you don't touch me again." Holding her hand out, palm up, she held out the clip on black tie. The boys' eyes widened as his hand darted out snatching the scrap of fabric from her hand. "Sorry." He said meekly, hands up in surrender as he backed away. _ Crazy bitch. _May couldn't help but notice a few party goers eyeing her her fingers she flashed a tight lipped factious smile. Her mind running a mile a minute, maybe it did look strange to have a woman traipsing around in a black trench coat... Shrugging out of her own coat, she draped her every so carefully over her arm. Careful not to give any indication of it's contents.

"So sorry, dear," Flanders rushed back to her side, that plastic smile still on his lips. Thrusting a pint glass into her free hand he smirked. "Please, come sit with Margret and I."

* * *

May sat at the table, her chin resting against her palm as she leaned on the table. Doctor Flanders droned on and on about the newest things they wanted to do at the hospital, new treatments, a hospice wing and such, but conveniently 'the funds just weren't there'. I.E: Please write me a big fat check. None the less she listened intently, or at least pretended to, discreetly allowing her eyes to sweep the room. "So where was this 'smoking hot' doctor and his 'smoking hot family'? They couldn't be that spectacular. Elvis had been hot

"This is the third time this month the MRI machine has had to be-"

"Excuse me one second, Doctor. I just need to have a quick cigarette." May stood gracefully, her eyes drifting to her coat draped over the back of her chair. She didn't have to take it right? She didn't feel the buzz, and besides what immortal would challenge her anyway? They'd certainly give her time to collect her things before they moved some where a bit more. Private. Gently zigzagging through the crowded ballroom, she made her way towards two large glass French doors. The cool night air was refreshing, invigorating. The night sky only boasted a few stars, as the light pollution around her made most disappear. Placing a cigarette between her lips, she lit it and exhaled a cloud of gray smoke into the air. She ignored the others out on the balcony as that chatted about vacations in Aspen, stocks and bonds.

"May." Her hands gripped the balcony as she took a deep breath. That didn't take long... The cigarette hanging precariously between her full lips, she spun around. Honestly, her eyes must've bulged. She blinked rapidly. Doctor Flanders had a man with him, an absolutely stunning man. Beautiful; in an almost unspeakable way. _ 'Have you seen the smokin' hot new doctor?' _ Molly and Laura's words reverberated in the back of her mind.  
Holy Cow; they were right, for once! He was possibly the most stunning man; scratch that: person. Man or woman, she'd ever seen. His light golden blonde hair was slicked back, drawing attention to his handsome angular face. She did note that he was eerily pale, but in the moonlight everyone looked a bit pale.

"Doctor Cullen, May I introduce: Ms. May Gallagher" Taking the tall Adonis of a doctor offered hand she shook it with vigor. God, He was like a damn ice cube. She tried in vain, to think of something witty to say. "Ms. Gallagher is one of the hospital's most generous donors..." Flanders rambled, as May store into the strange golden eyes that peered down at her. May blushed a bit as Doctor Cullen said  
: "Lovely to meet you, Ms. Gallagher." Ah, a true gentleman, you didn't find them much anymore.

"Likewise; Doctor Cullen. But please, it's May. Ms. Gallagher is _old _and stuffy." She scrunched her face with an obvious distaste.

"Then please, Ms. - May. I insist you call me Carlisle." Plucking the cigarette from her lips, she flicked the ashes carelessly onto the pavement below.

"May is in …I'm sorry dear I don't think you ever have told me exactly how you acquired-"Flanders pressed. He always pressed; he seemed so blatantly interested in how she 'acquired her fortune'.

"I robbed a bank." Both men stared wide eyed. Quickly laughing, she tossed her head back as Flanders eagerly followed suit, and the strange handsome doctor seemed to force a smile and a chuckle. "No, I'm in antiques." She waved her hand flippantly, raising it back to her mouth, as she took a drag off her smoke. Doctor Cullen-_Carlisle_ nodded appreciatively. It was nice to see young people have an interest in the past, care for items that had once held importance to someone. As opposed to tossing them aside.

"I had no idea there was such a…monetary gain...in antiques." Doctor Flanders eyed May strangely as he took a sip from his champagne flute. His large gray bushy eyebrows rising higher up on his forehead.

"Well, of course there is, Matthew." Carlisle chuckled. "Some are priceless; rare, and worth a fortune." May watched cautiously as the tall handsome doctor tucked his hands behind his back. He was lacking a cocktail, maybe he was an alcoholic. May nodded appreciatively, taking a sip off the bottle of beer. As she listened to the two men talk about a numerous amount of things, from hospital funding, to procedures and of course…antiques.

"Carlisle, where is your lovely family?" Matthew said, he didn't hide his eyes scanning the balcony, as May dropped her cigarette butt, crushing it with her shoe.

"They're-"A loud scream erupted from inside, as May's ice blue eyes peered through the glass.

POP POP POP!

Three large men fired shots into the ceiling as panicked screams drifted out onto the balcony. People ran in all directions, ladies fell on their gown trains, clattering to the floor. Covering her mouth with her hand, she store at the horror scene, but could tear her eyes away…It's was some kind of sick grotesque fascination. After 320 years of battle, combat generally being on her toes at all times, you'd think that she would have some elaborate escape, but she didn't. Her high-heeled feet were glued to the concrete below her. Her eyes wide as her hand flew to her mouth in shock. 'Oh my God.." she breathed.

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**_A/N: Please take a moment a shoot me a review! They're worth their weight in gold!_**


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